


Calamity

by Shugister



Category: Batman - All Media Types, Gotham (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Happy Ending, Humor, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-26
Updated: 2020-06-26
Packaged: 2021-03-04 03:42:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,856
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24927121
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shugister/pseuds/Shugister
Summary: This is a crossover between Gotham and semi-classic Batman and the Joker. I think the world needed such a fic XDThe Joker got to be treated with an experimental cure, and what became of it.
Relationships: Batman/Joker, Joker (DCU)/Bruce Wayne, Oswald Cobblepot/Jim Gordon
Comments: 6
Kudos: 38





	Calamity

**Author's Note:**

> Dedicated to WTF Batjokes 2020 team.  
> Thank ilylynnbelle for beta!  
> Thank genmitsu for translation!

The warden opened the doors to the high-security ward for Batman. Bruce walked inside briskly, knowing his way well, and the chief doctor was struggling to keep up with him.

“Not only Wayne Enterprises but Bruce Wayne himself, I must add, provided funding for this research! We proceeded according to the strictest regulations and took every precaution!”

Bruce hummed. Words like these usually preceded every catastrophe.

They should have just faced the fact that they could never actually treat anyone at Arkham Asylum and stopped funding the treatments. It would’ve done more good to change the plumbing, or make a garden for the non-violent patients to stroll in. But Bruce did sign all those papers and set up an account to fund the Second Life program.

And this was the result.

They arrived at the familiar ward – heavily secured, cast-iron double doors. Bruce looked inside through the small window; the Joker was cowering in the corner, hiding his face in his bony knees.

“So how old is he now?”

“He’s about… eight,” the chief doctor faltered. “The tests place him at this age. You see, he’s the first patient we’ve tried this method on… It worked, it’s great that it worked, but we expected to be dealing with a teenager, and this… He cries all the time.”

Bruce sighed heavily, watching the Joker who never moved.

“Open the door.”

The chief doctor nodded, rattling the keys. The noise finally caught the Joker’s attention and he raised his head, watching the door with a feverish glint in his eyes.

“Who are you?” he asked in a trembling voice.

Bruce frowned. He’d never heard the Joker sounding so quiet and broken before.

“A friend. I came to see you.”

Bruce stepped forward carefully and the Joker tried to squeeze into his corner even more, sticking out his knees as if meaning to deter him.

“I’m scared. I’m hungry.”

“Didn’t they feed you?” Bruce looked back at the chief doctor who started messing with the keys nervously.

“He had his dinner! He did!” the doctor kept nodding frantically, like a bobble head.

The Joker whimpered.

Bruce came closer to him. It was difficult to connect his memory of a dangerous psychopath and a killer to this awkward and helpless creature.

“Are you sure he’s not simulating this?”

“At this moment, yes, completely, but we do not know how long it will last.”

Bruce closed his fists, getting ready to make a decision that was bound to lead to trouble.

“Get him ready and bring him out. I’ll be taking him.”

He turned and started walking away.

He should’ve parked the Batmobile closer.

***

“What were you expecting, sir? We have the Joker in the house.”

Bruce was angry. Very. He had trouble keeping it under control.

The fire was quickly extinguished, no one was killed – only the kitchen was burned down.

“Why didn’t you keep an eye on him?”

“I have my own fill of duties, sir. And he wanted to make a pie for you all by himself. He insisted on it.”

Bruce rubbed at his forehead trying to calm down. Really, what else should he have expected?

The Joker had been living with them for two months already, and his behavior was getting on Bruce’s nerves. He couldn’t figure out what the issue was – that it was the Joker, or that it was a little kid.

If anything, Bruce never wanted to have anything to do with kids in the future, that was clear.

The little Joker was a nightmare. His sleep was erratic and unsound. He couldn’t be left alone. He couldn’t find himself a safe activity. He was a very annoying, inquisitive and restless child in an adult body. He was constantly demanding more sweets and leaving cookie crumbs in Bruce’s bed while he watched Tom & Jerry cartoons. Bruce bought him a tablet, but the Joker wanted to watch the cartoons on his laptop and it always had to be Bruce’s room. When Bruce was home, between his work and patrolling the streets, the Joker kept dogging him, and he never shut up.

The nightly patrols became less eventful now, with the Joker safely in Wayne manor. Bruce tried to be happy with it, but deep inside he regretted that Batman had less to do now. He always got home earlier now, and the Joker was always waiting for him.

“I’m sorry, Alfred. I’ll take him back to Arkham right now.”

“It’s out of the question,” Alfred threw a soot-black towel into a burnt pile indignantly. “I don’t trust the staff at Arkham, they could make his situation much worse.”

“So you propose to let him stay here, after he set the fire?”

“You made this decision, remember? Now leave me to deal with this mess, Master Bruce, and go take care of him. He’s upstairs, in his room.”

The Joker was indeed in his room. He was sitting on the floor, sucking on a lollipop and looking very guilty. Bruce had to fight the momentary impulse to grab him, throw him in the car and take him back to Arkham.

“Tell me what you have caused today,” commanded Bruce in a stern voice.

The Joker lowered his gaze and stared at the floor.

“Will you talk to me or not?” Bruce closed the door behind him with a heavy sigh.

“I wanted to surprise you.”

“You managed that.”

“Are you angry?” the Joker looked at him closely, and very sadly.

Bruce sat on the bed, looking back at him with attention. He’s had this nagging feeling for a while that the Joker was gradually coming back. His antics became less and less innocent. Sometimes when he laughed Bruce couldn’t help hearing the familiar hysterical notes. And now he’s burned down the kitchen.

What’s next? Explosions?

“How are you?”

“Dirty,” the Joker pouted, showing Bruce his hand smudged with black.

“You have to wash your hands,” Bruce looked him over again. “Actually, you should wash up, you’re covered in soot.”

Bruce carefully tugged the Joker by his wrist towards the bathroom.

“Come on, you have to clean yourself up.”

“Can I sit in the bubbles?”

“Suit yourself,” Bruce shrugged. “Put the dirty clothes in the bin. I’ll bring you your pyjamas.”

When he was a kid himself Bruce liked taking bubble baths. His mother would fill their big bathtub with water, add a bath bomb, and Bruce would imagine he was a pilot soaring above the clouds. Now he preferred taking showers. Contrast ones.

When Bruce got back the Joker was already sitting in a fragrant cloud of foam, as if he had emptied half a bottle into the tub, and he was humming a shark song softly.

“Did you bring the ducky?” the Joker asked, piling more foam in front of himself.

“What ducky?” Bruce got confused. “I brought your pyjamas.”

“Stay with me! Don’t go, Bruce, don’t! I’m bored!”

Bruce frowned, but he sat on the chair and took out his phone, scrolling through his photos and contacts – anything, so as not to look at the Joker, who put his pale leg on the edge of the tub and was wiggling his toes.

 _I should take him to Arkham,_ Bruce thought. _Seems like he_ _’_ _ll be coming back soon, if he haven_ _’_ _t already._

“Bruce,” whispered the Joker suddenly. “Why is my hair green?”

Bruce paused, looking at the wet green locks sticking to his neck.

“Do you remember how I told you about your memory loss?”

“Yeah.”

“I don’t know what for, but you were dyeing it yourself.”

The Joker got thoughtful. Bruce was watching him carefully, trying to imagine what he could be remembering. The Joker’s face was concentrated, he was frowning and biting his reddened lips.

“Bring the ducky!” he said suddenly.

“No, it’s time for you to come out.”

Bruce got up, suddenly annoyed for no reason. The Joker, just as suddenly, obeyed him and rose up from the foam like a bony Aphrodite.

Bruce grabbed a big towel and threw it over the Joker’s shoulders.

“Dry yourself, get dressed, and go to your room.”

“Can I sit with you?” whined the Joker, as usual.

“No. I’m going to sleep.”

Having ushered the Joker out, Bruce fell on his bed. He kept asking himself why he had brought the Joker here from Arkham and what it could result in.

A roar of thunder woke Bruce up. He tried to roll to the other side and suddenly discovered he wasn’t alone. Someone was there on his chest, hands tight around his neck, and for a moment Bruce was sure the enemy was trying to choke him in his bed.

“J… Go away, let me sleep.”

Lightning lit the room for a moment, then thunder followed.

The Joker shrieked and clung to Bruce more, getting his leg onto him as well. He was under his blanket, burying his face into Bruce’s chest, and Bruce could only see his messy green hair.

He tried to free himself from the Joker’s grasp but to no avail. Bruce closed his eyes in resignation, and the Joker kept fidgeting, poking him with his bony knees.

“J. I’m serious. Go to your room,” Bruce whispered, watching his green head. The Joker only rose a little higher and pressed his cold nose into Bruce’s neck.

“I’m scared, Bruce.”

“It’s just a storm. I can’t sleep with you, so… Go to your room.”

The Joker’s breath was warm as he snuggled closer instead. Bruce almost managed to fall asleep, too lazy to actually try and kick him out of his bed. He missed the moment when the Joker started kissing him, covering his skin with licks and bites. When Bruce realized what was going on, the sleep was quickly forgotten and he snapped his eyes wide open.

“You!”

The Joker moved away, smiling – his usual smile, the Joker’s smile. Bruce inhaled sharply.

“Oh, Batsy,” the Joker sang, “of course it’s me. Who else would it be?”

The thunder was especially dramatic then, emphasizing the sudden pause. The lightning turned the Joker’s smile into his usual mad snarl. Bruce sat up on the bed abruptly, looking down at him. The Joker stopped smiling and now watched Bruce fearfully.

 _Why the hell did it happen in such rotten weather_ , Bruce thought. _I have to get him to Arkham immediately._

“Bruce? Bruce?” the Joker sat up too and was looking into Bruce’s eyes, calling his name. He seemed to have forgotten what he had been doing earlier, and looked confused. He tried to catch Bruce’s gaze and was clutching at the blanket.

But now Bruce was convinced that the effect of the treatment was fading, that the Joker was himself again, or that he’d revert very soon.

He rubbed at his face tiredly.

He should have some handcuffs nearby.

***

The rain was pattering loudly over the Van Dahl’s mansion, rustling outside and rattling in the gutters. The first floor was warmed up by the fireplace, the bedroom was only lit by a night light.

Jim looked into Oswald’s eyes, sliding his hand slowly over his knee, to his thigh, higher and higher.

Oswald was blushing as if it was his first time. He always was blushing with Jim. His freckles shone brightly over his nose and cheeks in such moments. Jim leaned closer, kissing the sweet spot under his pink ear. Oswald wrapped his arms around his neck, pressing closer…

Loud banging on the door downstairs broke their moment, suddenly piercing through the shuffle of rain.

Oswald started, pressing into the headboard, opening his eyes wider. They watched each other a few moments, then Jim frowned and reached for his tank top.

The sound repeated, startling Oswald again.

“Who could it be? I’m not expecting anyone!”

“I’ll go downstairs and find out,” Jim shrugged, checking his pistol.

“And in such weather!”

“It’s Gotham. Trouble doesn’t give a shit about weather.”

Jim rose up and walked downstairs determinedly, and Oswald only caught up with him at the end of the stairs, hiding a knife in his fancy dressing gown. Someone was positively trying to break the door down, knocking on it so much it was shaking. Jim pressed his finger to his lips, motioning for Oswald to keep away. Through the windows they could see a silhouette of a man, hitting the door with his fists and putting all his weight into it.

Jim, with gun at the ready, unlocked the door and threw it open.

The Joker fell inside, all drenching wet, in an orange suit that looked too much like pyjamas. He was whining pitifully.

“Wha… the Joker?” Oswald came closer. “What is this, new Arkham garb?”

“The Joker got out of Arkham,” Jim said. He closed the door, but still kept his pistol trained on their visitor.

Instead of answering the Joker lifted his head and wailed, loudly and desperately, like a hurt child.

“He said… He said… Pengieeee!”

The Joker suddenly leapt forward and clung to Oswald, holding him by the shoulders.

“What the hell? What are you doing here?” Oswald tried to shake himself free, but the Joker kept clinging to his dressing gown and wailing. “Get the hell out of my house! Get out!”

“He said he would put me back into the loony bin! He doesn’t love me!”

“Who? Jim, put away the gun. What the…”

“He!” the Joker repeated, as if it explained anything. “You know! He!”

“What even are you doing here?” Oswald kept trying to receive some kind of sensible answer, but the wails and cries never stopped. Oswald looked at Jim in perplexion.

Jim sighed heavily.

“Batman took him out of Arkham.”

“But… what, so he just strolled into the asylum and took an inmate? And then what, put him on the street?” Oswald even stopped trying to break free from the Joker’s wet clutches.

“You say it like you’ve never taken inmates out of the asylum when it suited you.”

“But that’s… Batman! I thought…”

“He took me,” said the Joker in a strained voice. “He saved me, took care of me! And then! Then he put handcuffs on me and said he would take me back! He got bored with me!”

Oswald frowned in disgust, looking squeamish. Jim shook his head.

“I have to take him to Arkham.”

“NO! Nooo! You can’t do that!” the wails echoed throughout the house.

“He’s unwell, he’s clearly not himself. Even more mad than usual, I mean,” Oswald squeezed the Joker’s shoulders automatically. “You shouldn’t be taking him anywhere in this weather. Call Batman – he can take him there himself. He took him from there anyway, it’s his responsibility.”

Jim frowned, looking at this tragic scene. The Joker still kept clinging to Penguin. His wails turned to pitiful sobs, then to muttering, then to sobs again. Oswald kept holding him by the shoulders and saying “there, there”, obviously at a loss what to do.

There was a time when Jim would have had no doubts about what needed to be done – he would’ve slapped the handcuffs on the Joker and took him to the asylum right away.

But a lot has happened since then…

Jim came up to them and grabbed the Joker by the elbow, firmly detaching him from Oswald. The Joker didn’t expect that, so he even released his hold on Oswald’s dressing gown and stared at Jim in apprehension.

“Let’s go upstairs, and I shall call Batman,” Jim said, looking strictly at them both.

It was much easier said than done. They settled in the small lounge on the second floor. Jim tried calling several times but there was no signal. Oswald was sitting in an armchair. The Joker, whom Jim did put in handcuffs, was curled up on the sofa. Oswald put a throw over him and glanced at him curiously.

“Doesn’t seem like I’ll be able to get a hold of Batman today. I don’t know, maybe it’s the rain,” Jim sighed tiredly. “I should probably take him there myself.”

“You can’t, we were drinking. DUI…”

“You kidding? I’ll write myself a ticket.”

“He’s sleeping. And I’m tired. You can take him there tomorrow. I don’t think he came here just to escape again,” Oswald yawned. “Let’s lock this room and go to bed.”

“Alright,” Jim rubbed at his face, also tired.

He walked towards the door first, trying not to have second thoughts. He looked back and saw Oswald adjust the blanket over the Joker carefully, before he joined Jim.

***

“But… Jim… I wanted to sleep.”

“It’s our only time off, Oswald. Please…”

Jim pinned Oswald with his weight, stroking him, caressing him, holding his hips and kissing his neck.

“Jim, stop…” Oswald gasped, pushing at Jim’s chest. “We have the Joker there in the next room… I can’t, with him!”

“He’s sleeping,” Jim pushed his knee between Oswald’s legs, spreading them. “We’ll be quiet…”

Jim took Oswald’s hands that kept him from pressing closer and pinned them to the pillows above his head.

“We’ll just be very quiet and it will be alright.”

Oswald threw back his head, baring his neck for kisses. _Quiet_ _…_ Jim bit at the spot under his ear and Oswald moaned.

“Shh, Oswald…”

Jim put his fingers into Oswald’s mouth and Oswald licked them thoroughly. Jim’s hand squeezed him through the underwear, eliciting another loud sound from Oswald.

“Shh… Baby…”

Jim kept kissing him and trying to pull the dressing gown off his shoulders.

Oswald tried very hard to stay quiet, but the sighs and the moans still escaped his lips as often as Jim paused between the kisses. All the sounds in the room suddenly seemed very loud, the adrenaline kept adding to the pleasure – just like that time at Wayne’s charity gala, when Jim took him to some darkened corner…

They couldn’t escape Alfred’s reproaching stare the whole night.

Jim caressed Oswald’s bad knee carefully, moving it aside as he prepared him.

Oswald whimpered, clutching at his shoulders. Tender, Jim was so tender. Oswald was going to melt in this tenderness.

“Oswald,” whispered Jim. “Now…”

He pushed into him smoothly. Oswald emitted probably the most obscene moan in his life, so loud it should’ve been heard through the whole city.

Jim didn’t try shutting his mouth anymore and Oswald kept screaming his name with every thrust, louder and louder.

When it was over, Jim brought them both a towel.

“What are you smiling about, Commissioner?”

“I think we failed being quiet. Even if the Joker was hard of hearing, he would’ve heard us anyway.”

Oswald rolled his eyes, feeling his ears burn.

“You knew it would happen,” he replied dryly. “Aren’t you worried about your reputation?”

Jim frowned.

“I’ve already gotten over this kind of crisis. It’s time to move forward.”

Oswald fell asleep as soon as he closed his eyes, on Jim Gordon’s shoulder.

It was 4 AM.

***

“Five monkeys jumping on the bed!”

Oswald snapped open his eyes as if he was doused with ice water. His hand immediately found the knife he always kept close by. Jim was already gripping his pistol next to him, a moment away from shooting.

The Joker was sitting on their bed singing a kids song.

“The hell…” Jim relaxed minutely, lowering his gun.

“I cooked you breakfast!” The Joker exclaimed. “Toasts with bacon, scrambled eggs and cheese! And coffee as well! As black as your soul!” The Joker pointed sharply at Oswald. The handcuffs were hanging from his wrist.

“I don’t drink coffee…” Oswald groaned, falling back on his pillow. “Get out of my bedroom.”

Of course, the Joker didn’t comply, so they had to get downstairs with him and he kept talking the whole time.

“So where’s that coffee?” Jim sat on the kitchen stool, yawning terribly.

The Joker kept flitting about, in Oswald’s dressing gown. He put the cup in front of Jim and started fiddling with the teapot.

 _He really made himself at home here,_ Oswald thought with annoyance.

“I heard everything!”

Jim choked on his coffee and Oswald, blushing furiously, started clapping him on his back.

“So what have you been up to, huh? Huh? You thought I was asleep!” The Joker giggled with a maniacal glint in his eyes. “And now I know everything! The GCPD is making deals with the criminal underworld! Right under my nose!”

Jim and Oswald exchanged glances.

“Well,” Oswald cleared his throat, “yes. We do… make deals, from time to time. It’s all for the sake of our beautiful city. I’ve always said how much I loved Gotham, that hasn’t changed. So if I need to make a deal with the police, I’m going to make it.” Oswald nodded, emphasizing his words. It would’ve looked better if his cheeks weren’t blushing furiously, but he still made his point.

“I have to admit,” said the Joker, biting into his toast, “you really go all out for Gotham. I could clearly understand the whole weight of the sacrifice you both were making to protect our city. It’s important for Gotham to stay safe until I can destroy it myself.”

Jim practically slapped himself with his palm, shaking his head.

“You shouldn’t say such things in front of the Commissioner,” Oswald shook a finger at him. “And don’t speak with your mouth full!”

He was almost finished with his tea when there was a knock on the door. Jim got up to open it and soon returned with Batman in tow.

The Joker shrieked and ran to embrace him at once.

“Jim. Penguin,” Batman nodded to them, terse as usual, and stood solid as a rock while the Joker attempted to climb him.

“Do take care not to lose your pets again, Mister Batman. Next time they might end up somewhere they will be shot with little regret,” Oswald crossed his arms and tightened his lips. “Thank you for dropping by.”

“I’ll see you off,” Jim followed their guests to finally close the door behind them.

***

Bruce started the car, feeling relieved. The Joker was in the passenger seat, fidgety and restless, as usual.

“You’re not going to take me to Arkham, are you?”

“I am,” Bruce said strictly.

“But I haven’t even blown anything up!” The Joker was deeply offended. “I want to go home, take a bath with my ducky, and I want to sleep in my warm bed! Pengie and Gordy kept me up the whole night with their deal-making.”

“Deal-making?”

“The police are making deals with Penguin. I think it goes very, very deep…”

“Hm.”

“Oh, and you know… I think we could try a little of that too. You see, it turns out that works. We can’t fight all the time, it’s going to get boring. Pengie’s life is a lot more diverse, I’m even a little envious, actually.”

“I’ll take you back to the manor. But then we’re going to have a serious talk about your follow-up treatment.”

“Oh, so you got it! Alright, I’m ready to have that talk! But first I want ice cream and those jelly beans from the Sweet Kingdom…”

Bruce just started driving down Gotham streets, not yet busy with the usual city traffic.


End file.
